


And disappear in the trees

by andreasorion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, because they're bros and I want to write Danny's POV regarding ss3 spoilers, mentions of Jackson/Danny friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreasorion/pseuds/andreasorion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>California was experiencing the heaviest unseasonal rain in ten years, and Danny was out on the Lacrosse field.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And disappear in the trees

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Run Boy Run' by Woodkids. Like what the tags said, I'm writing from Danny's POV about ss3 confirmed spoilers of Jackson leaving and manage to turn it into a Mahealahey pre-slash ficlet. Wrote it under an hour under the rain, not beta-ed, so yeah.

It was nine in the evening, it was raining buckets, it was dark and damp and dangerous and Danny was tossing balls after balls into the goal. Like scoring into the very net he protected every goddamn day was going to make the puzzles in his life solve themselves. Those fucking puzzles were as strange as the August Californian rain he was under.

 

Bacon Hills High’s social hierarchy was messed up because Lydia refused to socialise without Jackson there. That strawberry blonde genius left high school politics in the hands of Danny and the cheerleaders’ captain to make nice with Stilinski and became the scariest pair of valedictorians Beacon Hills had ever seen. _And the summer had not even ended yet_. Every jocks and pretty girls with their perfect manicure and make-up took that as an opportunity to rack up their popularity at this pathetic excuse of a school, which resulted in a whirlwind of parties and fights on sport fields during summer trainings and teenage romance where more often than not Danny himself had to get involved in as meditator so that everything would not descend into chaos.

 

The solid wall that was Jackson and Lydia between him and schoolyard drama came crashing down, leaving him tired and vulnerable and downright miserable. Danny had never been a people person. Yes he was nice and a negotiator and sometimes an opportunist, but not to the point where he could navigate social relations as easy as breathing, like Lydia did. It was the reason why he got so good at computers – they provide the comfort that interactions with human never could. It was also why he had been good friends, best of friends, with Jackson – they don’t tolerate people’s bullshit.

 

Furthermore,  Danny was left behind by his bestfriend with occasional awkward voicemails of lies and apologies and bullshit that he never bothered finish listening before deleting, angry and hurt and confused. So he sought out the Lacrosse gears and played non-stop, because Lacrosse was nice and comforting and this was closest to Jackson he would ever get in the near future. It reminded him of that time Jackson was so determined to became the captain of the best sport team in high school, that overachiever asshole. Of course Danny loved Lacrosse but the whole reason why he was playing was because Jackson had brought him into it. That douchebag couldn’t tolerate not having a wingman.

 

 

 

And after another five goals, he admitted to himself that calling Jackson names and blaming Lydia could not make him hate them. He slipped trying to score the sixth, sitting paralyzed in the darkness with mud sipping through his socks and rain dripping down the helmet. A hollow feeling sat in his chest, because he had never felt so lonely and scared since fourth grade.

 

Because Danny’s best friend had been acting weird for months before dying on a fucking field and later being miraculously resurrected from the death.  Then he fucking skipped town without a warning or even a word. His only other true friend slash his bestfriend’s girlfriend was getting on with her life and making new friends and decided to leave him out of that circle. He was pretty sure it had something to do with McCall, Stilinski, Lahey and that ragtag group with sudden badass-wannabe behaviours and dramatic increase in althetic performances. There was something messed up going on out there, and he had no idea what it was or how to solve it or _how to get his bestfriends back_.

So he sat there for dozens of minutes, hours maybe, until something obstructed his vision of the goal. He realized it was a hand held out for him.

 

-          Get up, Danny. You’re going to get cold or hurt yourself in this weather.

 

It was Lahey’s voice. Danny just sat there, no intention of getting off his ass and not wanting to either. He spoke up though, because manners were required even when you felt like shit.

 

-          Thanks, but I’m good here. Why are you out on the field anyway?

 

-          Coach called, saying he left the locker room’s door open and wanted me to come back and lock it, Probational Captain and all that. I came in, decided to check up on everything, found the field’s lights on and my vice-captain trying to practice himself into an injury with full on gears and a stick. Despite being the goalie.

 

Lahey sat down next to him, and he realised the guy was holding an umbrella over both of them. They sat there in silence, until Lahey spoke again:

 

-          I know emotional relief play when I see one. It’s Jackson, is it?

 

Danny's mind refused to answer directly, just slowly take off his helmet, gloves and protective gears.

 

-          These are Jackson’s. He left, might not come back and I thought it would be a shame not to bring gears this good out in the sunlight again, so I put them on and practise.

 

-          At night during this heavy rain. – Lahey raised an eyebrow.

 

-          …Yeah. – Danny laughed bitterly.

 

He did not know what made him talk to Lahey. Maybe because he had been the first person to notice how shaken Danny was, maybe because of his non-threatening demeanour, or maybe because Danny thought he could get any answers out of the guy, no matter how small the chances were.

The silence continued, until the sky became dry and the mud on Danny’s legs was starting to itch.

 

-          Have you talked to Jackson, about the last few months he was here? – It was Lahey who started the conversation, again.

 

-          No. -  Danny remembered the voicemails -  apologies, yes, but explanations of some sort? There was not one.

 

-          Then maybe you should ask him. – And, in a lightning fast move, Lahey took hold of his hand, turned it palm-up - and before Danny even realized what he was doing - had finished scribbling down a series of numbers. – This is my phone number. Talk to Jackson, ask him directly. If you get the answer I think you will get, call me and I’ll try to fill you in as best as I can on the rest. If Jackson doesn’t talk, then you can also call me, I’ll get permission to answer your questions, to the best of my ability.

 

He was half way across the field before Danny could think up of a question. He had to raise his scratchy voice to say it:

 

-          Why are you doing this, Lahey?

 

-          You look like you could use some explanations and a friend, so I’m giving you both. Call if you want to talk, too. I don’t mind helping. – Lahey shouted, back turned immediately following the response - shaggy blonde hair, leather jacket damp, the back of his jeans covered in mud – and disappeared behind the stands.

 

Danny looked down at his palm, a phone number and a simple ‘Isaac’ in black sharpie ink.

 

-          Thanks, Isaac. – He smiled, and his heart seemed lighter than it felt in months.


End file.
